


Enamórate

by Nyhne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Antonio's a dork with a guitar, Antonio's dirty spanish mouth, Dirty Dancing, Eventual Relationships, Falling In Love With The Best Friend, Falling Out of Love, Fluff, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Roderich's kinda awkward, Romance, Sexual Content, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7842007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyhne/pseuds/Nyhne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roderich meets a handsome Spanish musician at the bar and suddenly his dull life becomes much more colorful. But not all relationships are meant to last, and falling in love again is not without its difficulties - for everyone involved.</p><p>SpAus and eventual PruAus, with other minor pairings. Human AU. Happy ending, despite what it might seem. (: To be posted in three parts: Antonio, Interlude, and Gilbert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enamórate

**Author's Note:**

> I've long wanted a fic that goes from SpAus to PruAus, so this is more of a guilty pleasure than anything. This has been (very gradually!) in the works for over two years now, and ongoing! I've separated the fic into three sections: the Antonio section, the Interlude, and the Gilbert section, so you can probably guess how this fic goes. c; But despite what it may seem, things do turn out happy - I don't want it to seem like this is a SpAus-bashing fic. Or a SwissAus-bashing fic, for that matter! Although those two have their own complicated history. 
> 
> Title is from the song 'Enamórate' by Dvicio. As soon as that video went viral on Tumblr, I knew it would have a place in this fic. 
> 
> Contains sexual content and the use of alcoholic substances because sometimes Roderich is a goddamn mess. Translations provided at the bottom of each section.

 

* * *

**PART I. ANTONIO.**

* * *

_When life gives you lemons, grab the tequila and salt!_

The bright yellow fridge magnet was hard to miss among the group of magnetic quips and expressions displayed against the metal backing of the checkout counter. Some of them, Roderich supposed, were funny; the kinds of proverbial sayings that were turned on their heads for the sake of elicit chuckle while you were waiting in line.

Roderich couldn't find it in himself to be so indulgent. The neon yellow seemed almost intrusive in the dull gray of the store, a sad, pre-recession retail shop with high ceilings and fuzzy fluorescent lights. The cashier looked a bit like the magnet, Roderich thought, with blonde hair that was too light to be natural and a perky, almost overbearing smile on her face. Late twenties, Roderich guessed. Probably using the job to pay off graduate loans and buy a few meals, though he thought her bubbly-looking smile was a bit over the top considering the less-than-cheerful atmosphere.

"Hey, she's kinda cute."

Roderich felt a nudge at his shoulder and he turned to where his friend Erzsébet had just popped up in line holding a bag of jellybeans she didn't need and one of the sketchpads that had been marked for 30% off tucked under her arm. Her intrusion had attracted a few sour looks from the other customers in line and Roderich tried to give them an apologetic smile, quickly turning back to Erzsébet with a frown.

"Stop cutting in line," he ignored her original statement. "You're attracting attention."

The brunette merely snorted and tossed her head at the man glaring at them from behind, the bag of jellybeans crinkling noisily. "I'm sure they'll live," she said. "And nice try, but no changing the subject, Roderich. Are you going to ask for her number?"

She nudged him in his side again with a playful wink that made Roderich roll his eyes. "Very funny, Erzsi," he indulged before changing topics again. "Are you really getting a new sketchbook already? I thought you bought a new one two weeks ago."

Erzsébet seemed willing to drop the subject this time, shrugging her shoulders in a straight up-and-down motion that kept the sketchbook in place under her arm. "They fill up quick," she responded matter-of-factly. "I've been working on a sculpture—you know, the one with the horse?—and I keep hitting duds on it. My last sketchbook is half-filled with scribbled out ideas, I swear," she chuckled.

"Oh," Roderich hummed before moving forward and placing his items on the counter, the line finally moving. The cashier _was_ cute, he thought as he waited for her to ring up his total. She had a shoulder-length haircut with a red headband pulling back her hair, showing off her rounded face and large green eyes. Roderich thought she might've been Erzsébet's type.

He said as much after they had exited the store and Erzsébet snorted, her bag slung over her shoulder despite the fact that it didn't weigh nearly enough to warrant doing so.

"Nice try, Roderich, but you're the one we're looking for, not me. You know how relationships make me feel." She pulled a face.

Erzsébet had gone through at least five different relationships within the past year alone—it wasn't that she was a bad girlfriend, per se, but her independent spirit made it difficult for her to commit and she could become so engrossed in her art that even Roderich had a hard time getting ahold of her at times.

"I know," he sighed. "And I know you mean well, but I'm not sure if a relationship is what I really need right now, with work getting busy again."

Next to him Erzsébet frowned. "That excuse is getting awfully old, Roderich Edelstein," she accused, jabbing a finger and a suspicious look in his direction. "You've been single for far too long. Aren't you sick of it?"

"Says the person who's gotten out of every relationship she's ever been in," Roderich grumbled under his breath.

Erzsébet just laughed and gave him a playful grin, elbowing his side again. "Yup, and proud to admit it," she nodded and then turned serious, giving him a stern look. "But I'm happy single, and you're not—that's the difference.

"Look, Roderich."

She paused next to the row of cars and he sighed, turning to face her reluctantly.

"I know you keep saying you're happy alone, but I know you too well for that charade. I know it's been eating at you since Basch—" He cringed at the name but she ignored it. "—but that was months ago. You can do a lot better than that gun-fanatic, all right? Just let me set you up on some dates. I know some really great guys and I won't let you be hurt again. I promise."

"Erzsi…" he murmured feeling his earlier stance begin to soften. They'd been friends since college and whether Roderich was the wide-eyed, lost looking freshman she'd immediately taken under her wing or the caring friend she was now, he was certain he wouldn't know what he'd do without her.

Erzsébet shook her head, never one for too many sentiments, and patted his arm with her free hand. "Hey, that's what friends are for, right? Now let's hurry up and get to your car—I'm boiling out here!" she laughed and just like that the feeling of comfortable familiarity rolled between them again and Roderich smiled, thinking that maybe trying just one date wouldn't be so bad.

o o o

True to her word, Erzsébet called the next day saying she'd found someone _perfect_ for him, a friend of a friend. He was a real brainiac, apparently, a software developer for a national company and one of the best in his field. That wasn't too appealing to Roderich, in truth, but he'd already promised Erzsébet he would give this set up thing a shot and he liked to believe that he was an open-minded individual.

And so he found himself sitting at the bar of a café on the edge of the downtown area, a local band playing in the corner of the room and a fruity-smelling drink in his hand. He glanced down and checked the time on his phone again. They were supposed to meet at seven and it was already five minutes past. Roderich fidgeted and hoped he hadn't mixed up the meeting place again—something Erzsébet would never cease to tease him about—or gotten the time wrong.

The café had a pleasant atmosphere about it but it certainly wasn't the kind of place one went to alone. Tables were occupied by either couples or families, and even at the bar, each person had someone to talk to. Five minutes wasn't that late, he tried to convince himself. Maybe they were just running behind or traffic was heavy or maybe _they'd_ been the one to get lost, which would make for a funny thing to laugh about together when they got there and Roderich could drop his nervous smile and—

"You ready to order?"

Roderich started as his thoughts were interrupted, glancing down at the unopened menu under his arm and then back up at the bartender. "I—um, sorry?" he blinked.

"I asked if you're ready to order. I can come back if you need a few minutes," the server offered.

Roderich could feel the paper napkin that'd been provided with his drink, now torn and scrunched up in his hands beneath the table, and cleared his throat self-consciously. "That would be great, thank you," he said. "I'm, um, waiting to meet someone," he suddenly felt compelled to clarify, though he doubted that bartender could have cared less.

The man nodded and moved away, allowing Roderich to let out the breath he'd been holding and feel his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. To be fair, he'd been out of the dating game for some time and almost felt like he was playing a young man's game now at twenty six.

With Basch, he'd been able to skip a lot of the awkward first meeting dancing around each other since the ill-tempered Swiss liked it even less than he did and was the kind of person who got right to the point. And he'd liked that about the other, the shorter man's directness almost becoming an endearment.

Roderich swallowed hard and then immediately berated himself mentally for thinking of his ex during his date. Or, whenever this date was destined to start, rather.

Ten after. Roderich wondered if he should ask one of the waitresses if there was someone waiting for him, but the café was a relatively compact restaurant and there were no other single people in sight.

He sighed and clicked his phone screen off, glancing at the laminated menu still lying in front of him with a twisting feeling in his stomach. He'd give the other another five minutes before making any calls, he decided; he didn't want to seem too overbearing, after all.

Those thoughts were interrupted when a moment later a new voice, a bit too loud, came over the microphone and heads turned toward the stage. The band that had been playing when Roderich had first arrived was gone—Roderich hadn't even seen them exit—and was now replaced by a single guitarist on the stage.

He looked to be around Roderich's age, with lanky limbs and tanned, olive skin that reminded Roderich of the vacation his family had taken to Spain in the sixth grade. Roderich's position from the bar gave him a clear view of bright green eyes, even more vibrant than the cashier from the other day, that stood out under a mop of messy brown hair. There would have been a boyish look about his face if it weren't for the longness of it and the onset of purple sleep circles that the stage lights didn't quite hide.

He was handsome—there was no denying that. Roderich saw a few murmurs amongst the female population in the restaurant as soon as he'd announced his presence, and Roderich remembered Erzsébet once joking that "everybody liked a guy with a guitar".

"Buenas noches!" the man said and waved with what was best described as childish innocence. He had an accented voice, Roderich noted, and it might've been the lights, but he could have sworn there was a twinkle in the other's eye when he spoke. "I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo and this is my guitar. We're going to entertain you for the evening, so sit back, eat good food, and enjoy, sí?"

He winked and Roderich thought it was all a little overly flamboyant, the man obviously used to people swooning over him, though perhaps without realizing it. Either way, the mood in the restaurant did pick up, people laughing and silverware clinking all to the background of the guitarist's music.

The music was Spanish in influence, the warm sounds of the acoustic guitar keeping a lively atmosphere in the room. Even when he played the man was smiling, his head nodding slightly to the music as he hunched over on the stool, instrument nestled between his hands. In spite of himself, Roderich found his attention focusing on the guitarist rather than waiting for his date, who was now fifteen minutes late. He only realized how deeply his attention was entrenched in the man on the stage when his phone buzzed, alerting him to a new text.

Roderich frowned and turned back to the bar with more reluctance than he'd like to admit to himself and picked up his phone from the counter. Almost ironically, it was Erzsébet asking how his date was going.

Roderich snorted, setting his drink down to text a reply.

The guitarist changed songs, Roderich missing the applause as he texted Erzsébet back and feeling a bit bad for not applauding without knowing why.

Erzsébet, of course, was shocked and dumbfounded that Eduard hadn't showed up. She apologized profusely for his absence and promised Roderich she'd get to the bottom of it. Roderich assured her it was fine and that he appreciated her efforts anyway, though his mind was already off somewhere else.

He set his phone down after promising Erzsébet that he would talk to her later, taking another sip of his drink as he turned his attention back to the guitarist on stage. The musician still held the same form of carefree concentration, head bobbing in time to the music as his fingers ran up and down the neck of the instrument.

It wasn't often that these sorts of places featured a solo musician, but Roderich could see why they'd made an exception. His playing simply didn't require any other accompaniments, its sound fluid and full like a rippling stream on the hottest of the days.

Before he knew it, nearly half an hour had passed and with a flourish, the brunet announced that he would be taking a short break, exiting to applause quite a bit more energetic than it had been for the last performers. Roderich blinked and realized it had gotten much darker outside since he'd first come in.

The restaurant was full and buzzing with a kind of pleasant energy. It had also become a few degrees warmer with so many people in one space and Roderich knocked back the rest of his drink, his glass perspiring to create a thick ring on the paper napkin when he set it down.

One of the waitresses must've removed his menu, having given up on the prospect of getting a meal out of him. He hadn't been very hungry, anyway, and the liqueur felt warm in his throat and stomach, the smashed cherries from the bottom of the glass leaving a sweet taste at his lips.

He nodded to the bartender when he came to refill his glass, watching idly as Antonio pulled his guitar strap over his head, the movement showing off his arm muscles nicely.

Roderich swallowed. Maybe a refill wasn't so wise.

He turned to tell the bartender just that when he realized the guitarist was walking towards him. _Him_. The guitarist was talking towards _him_ , right now, and he had that same easygoing smile on his face from earlier and—

Roderich's eyes widened briefly and he turned back to the bar with a bit more haste than he'd liked to have shown, his knee cracking against the side of the bar and his glasses becoming skewed in the movement. Wincing, and blushing furiously with embarrassment, Roderich forced himself to take a drink, ignoring the throbbing in his knee and trying to think of what to say.

But as it turned out, he wouldn't need to, because instead of stopping in front of him with that big, white-toothed smile like he had in Roderich's imagination, the musician walked right past him and over to two other bar patrons further down the counter.

Roderich hid his disappointment (and further embarrassment) with another drink. And in spite of himself, he found his eyes straying to the gathered group at the end of the bar.

The brunet's arrival was met with loud greetings from the other two men, one with blond hair just past shoulder-length and the other with choppy, intriguingly silver-white hair that matched deep bronze eyes. They all looked to be the same age as the musician was, patting (or slapping, as in the case of the white-haired male) him on the back in a congratulatory manner.

Roderich turned away with a snort, their actions reminding him of his college days. Not everyone grew out of it, it would seem.

Even without the guitar music in the background the atmosphere in the restaurant continued to be pleasant, the chatter comfortable and sated after good food and abundant wine. Roderich wondered if it was time to take his leave. It was obvious that his date wasn't going to show up at this point, and he had no reason to stay.

No _real_ reason, he told himself firmly. The guitarist had been a welcome distraction to his daily monotony but it wasn't as if it would amount to anything, and so there was no reason to stay and tempt his lonely mind further.

He began to stand, head feeling pleasantly warm with the alcohol, and turned to grab for his wallet only to be met with two bright, green eyes.

"Hola!" they greeted, and Roderich blinked, realization clicking into place very slowly.

Oh.

 _Oh_ —

His mouth felt very dry, the cherries from his Old Fashioned suddenly tasting bitter on his tongue. He struggled for a reply. "Er, hello…" he finally managed and immediately after felt like an incompetent fool. He winced inwardly.

Most confusingly, the man only grinned in reply and Roderich wondered if he had said something even more idiotic than he thought he had, since amusement at his expense seemed to be the only viable explanation for the other's smile. Desperate, he hastened to amend it. "Your, um, playing is very good."

Roderich wondered if it was too late to flee, his own words making him want to hide his face in his hands. How much more of a fool could he make himself to be?

To his complete surprise, Antonio beamed as if had been the nicest compliment he'd ever received towards his music. "Sí?" he questioned. "I'm glad to hear—my friends were saying you were enjoying my music very much."

Roderich blinked, confused, and then glanced behind the grinning, well-tanned man to where his two friends from earlier were still sitting, watching their conversation with unabashed interest. Roderich flushed and quickly turned his gaze back to the man in front of him, hoping they hadn't heard his awkward, stuttering statements. "Did they?" he echoed faintly.

The other bobbed his head and then leaned forward on the balls of his feet, his face so close to Roderich's that he could see every color reflected in the other's emerald green eyes. Roderich's eyes widened but he found himself unable to move back, his body still catching up to his mind.

"You know," the man said, his eyes flashing in what Roderich thought could have been amusement, "if you want a CD, I'll give you a discount," he winked and Roderich's breath caught.

"I—um—" he fumbled and Antonio laughed, pulling back and finally giving Roderich a chance to breathe, his mind spinning.

"No worries, amigo," he said easily, and patted Roderich on the shoulder, jolting him back into reality. "My gig doesn't end for another hour so you have plenty of time to think about it. But won't tell anyone else, right?" he whispered conspiratorially, eyes glimmering. "Just between you and me."

"I was just leaving, actually," Roderich blurted out and then groaned mentally. He'd always considered himself a rather intelligent person, but this was not one of his brighter moments.

"Oh?" said Antonio and Roderich wondered if he had imagined the disappointed look in the other's face. If so, the brunet had a remarkable recovery time, one of those easygoing smiles quickly replacing the emotion. "I see. Well perhaps another time then, sí? I must get back to my guitar so I can eat tonight, but I will see you around, er…"

He paused, looking at Roderich expectantly and before he could fully comprehend the contract he was signing, the Austrian supplied with, "Roderich." and truly, he thought he'd never seen a bigger grin on a person's face before.

"Roderich," the Spaniard repeated, smiling as he tested out the name and curled the _r_ 's. It made Roderich's heart flutter and twist like rusty gears just now coming back to life under the pull of a lever, and Roderich wasn't sure just how long it had been since he'd last felt like that.

"Antonio," he other flashed his bare-toothed grin and before Roderich could come up with a coherent response, he was gone, weaving through the crowded tables and chairs to get back to the stage. Applause followed his return and for a fleeting second, Roderich swore he saw the other wink at him from under the spotlight.

Feeling much lighter than he had when he'd first sat down, Roderich exited the restaurant on Cloud Nine, not even noticing the little snicker that sounded when he passed by Antonio's two friends on his way out.

* * *

Erzsébet called the next day, full of apologies and nothing good to say about Eduard, but Roderich assured her it was fine and that he wasn't upset at all. She paused then, and Roderich shifted uneasily from where he was sitting in his living room, phone held to his ear. He knew Erzsébet too well to know that she was eyeing him at that moment, scrutinizing his face as if she knew there was something he was deliberately leaving out.

But Roderich wasn't quite ready to tell her about his encounter at the café the other night, and so he cleared his throat and hastened and apologetic excuse claiming that he needed to go. He knew Erzsébet wasn't a fool enough to buy it, but just as Roderich intended, it avoided the issue at hand and allowed him to escape, sinking back into the couch cushions gratefully after he'd ended the call.

He found himself repeatedly thinking about the tanned, dark-haired man over the following days, much to his embarrassment and horror. It was shameful, really, how he was acting—no better than a middle schooler with a crush. But every time he heard the lick of guitar on the radio or he looked up and saw how the sunlight shined through the green of the trees, he was reminded of Antonio's music, Antonio's eyes. It really was pathetic.

He hadn't yet gone back to the café, though the temptation was hard to resist. It wasn't one he frequented, and he had no reason to; it was unlikely that the green-eyed musician would have been there, anyway.

However, he finally mustered enough courage to turn on his laptop and do a quick Google search of the guitarist's name, the results bringing him to a website on the first link. _"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, Singer, Songwriter, Musician."_ the website title read. It had links to videos and upcoming events, as well as a bio page that Roderich clicked on after scanning through the screen.

 _Born in Barcelona, Spain, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo has been singing and playing since he received his first guitar at the age of four. Songwriting was a constant hobby until he began singing and performing his work in various gigs in high school. Since then, the hobby has become a passion and he has gone on to perform with local musicians and build up his solo work, now working on the release of his second album,_ Tomorrow is Too Far to Wait for You _._

_Antonio completed college with a major in Primary Education and a minor in Music for Guitar Performance and Composition. Currently, Antonio is working towards his teaching certificate, performing at local gigs on the side to help pay his rent. Antonio is fluent in Spanish as well as English, and frequently collaborates with the Hispanic community._

_To contact Antonio, please send him an email at_

Roderich stopped reading. There was a phone number provided under the email address and Roderich stared at it, the numbers seeming much brighter than everything else around them. He suspected it might come off as a bit stalkerish if he got Antonio's number from his website, but the Spaniard had seemed _so clear_ in his intentions the other night.

With a groan, Roderich set aside his laptop and went to turn the kettle on for tea. It was unlikely he would ever see the musician again, he tried to convince himself, so better that he kill the fantasy now before he became too fixated on it.

o o o

But as it turned out, it was almost a week later when Roderich met Antonio again, and in the most cliché way possible: at the supermarket.

It was Saturday—the day Roderich did most of his weekly errands—and a rather sleepy one at the grocery store, the heat of the late afternoon rolling into the store every time the automatic double doors opened. The freezer section hummed loudly from working extra hard to keep things cool.

The checkout lines were running just as slow as the customers were, shoppers reluctant to give up the air conditioning of the store and cross the blistering heat of the parking lot to get to their cars.

Roderich himself was in a rather lazy mood, the barrage of summer heat making him wish he was at home with a cool drink and a book. The freezer section seemed awfully tempting in such temperatures, the small single-serve ice cream section the store carried already looking bald despite it being only two in the afternoon. He glanced at the contents of his basket, shifting the plastic-wrapped cheese to the side to make room for an indulgent tub of vanilla ice cream with the hopes that it wouldn't melt before he got home.

He was opening the freezer door again (having decided that it was hot enough out to deserve something cold for the drive home) when a familiar accented voice called his name out from the end of the aisle. Roderich looked up and nearly dropped his basket in surprise.

"Roderich—hi! Remember me? It's Antonio!"

Roderich had never believed in luck, but he sure as hell felt lucky right then as he watched the guitarist from the café wave enthusiastically in his direction and begin walking towards him.

For a moment, Roderich swore he could taste the bitters he'd drunk the other night, his lips suddenly dry.

"I—um, Antonio, hello," he forced out messily, fumbling to move his basket to his other hand and then shifting it back with embarrassment when he remembered he shook with his right.

The Spaniard didn't seem fazed by his clumsiness, instead returning the handshake with a grin so bright it could have illuminated the entire store. "I knew we would see each other again," he said proudly, beaming. "How have you been, amigo? I haven't seen you at the café."

Roderich felt something in his heart stir. Had Antonio been looking for him at the café? It _almost_ made him feel slightly better about researching the other online.

The musician was still smiling expectantly and Roderich realized he was waiting for a response. He cleared his throat. "Oh, er, I've just been busy," he lied vaguely, hoping he wasn't pulling the face Erzsébet always claimed he made when he was lying.

If he was, it didn't seem to bother Antonio any, who simply bobbed his head sympathetically. "Sí, sí, for me as well," he empathized, green eyes wide. "Between teaching classes, playing gigs, and my other job, Dios mío, do I keep busy!" he laughed.

Roderich remembered reading on his bio that Antonio was working on his teaching certificate and felt that twinge of self-conscious guilt rise up again. He tried to concentrate on forcing his expression into one of surprise. "Oh, do you teach?" he asked.

Antonio quickly shook his head. "Not _teaching_ classes, _teaching classes_ ," he clarified. "I, ehh, still need to get certified." He scratched at the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish before perking up again. "But hopefully soon I can be done with my teaching requirements and in the kindergarten classroom!"

Roderich had never been very good with children, and so he struggled to think of a reply. "That's, um, good. I am sure you'll be a very good kindergarten teacher."

He offered a hesitant smile and Antonio took it for a mile, his grin genuine and innocent. "Gracias! It's always been a dream of mine to play with kids for a living, see? So one step closer!" he enthused.

Roderich just nodded and then immediately regretted it when that seemed to bring their conversation to a lull, both of them still standing in the middle of the frozen foods aisle. He shifted the basket in his hand uncomfortably, trying to think of something to say that would make him sound at least marginally interesting.

Or maybe escaping was a better option, which sounded ten times more appealing than standing with a stranger he'd met only twice and already made butterflies appear in his stomach whenever he thought of him. "I should go," he said quickly just as Antonio asked, "So where do you work?"

Both paused and then Roderich felt his ears and neck burn. "I—um, sorry," he said.

Antonio laughed it off easily and Roderich wondered how he did that, always appearing to be in a good mood. "No, no—my apologies. I did not mean to keep you for so long."

"It's fine," Roderich shook his head. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and his fingers had curled around the basket handle even tighter, the knuckles nearly white.

"Perhaps instead you would like to get drinks together?" Antonio asked, his emerald eyes glimmering. "So we can finish this conversation?" he prompted.

"Oh…" Roderich felt his breath catch, looking down as Antonio held out his hand. It felt far too late to back out now, fate practically handing him the opportunity on a golden, and very tan and nicely-muscled, platter. "I…would like that," he finally said, and looked up to give Antonio one of his small and nearly-there smiles, passing over his phone so the other could punch in his number.

Antonio's resulting grin was radiant, the man glowing with more happiness than Roderich had ever thought possible for one person. "Excelente!" he exclaimed and handed Roderich's phone back with enthusiasm. "Tomorrow at eight, then, sí?"

Something in Roderich's heart began to thaw and he felt himself nod, curling his fingers around his phone like it was his most precious ticket to freedom. "Tomorrow at eight," he nodded.

"Great! I will text you the place. See you later, Roderich, it was nice seeing you again," Antonio waved, a certain bounce to his step as he walked back down the aisle.

"Goodbye, Antonio," he said, and the butterflies in his stomach soared.

o o o

At nearly eight o'clock the next evening, the sun had sunk low enough in the sky to give everything a pinkish-orange glow, the light reflecting off of shop windows brilliantly. The warm weather made everyone eager to be out, and the sidewalks of the downtown area were crowded with people.

It was warm enough that Roderich hadn't kept his jacket on, the navy blue coat slung over his arm as he made his way to the section of bars and restaurants on the street. Antonio had suggested the name of a place he was not familiar with—one of the smaller dives sandwiched between better-known eateries. He hoped he hadn't overdressed for the occasion; Erzsébet had always been a good judge on how formal an event was, but left to his own devices, Roderich tended to dress up rather than dress down. As he figured, it was better to be overdressed than under—it made one's social standing look better.

But as he entered the bar, Roderich had the feeling that he was a bit too overdressed, most of the patrons sitting inside gruff, plaid-wearing blue-collar workers. A few of them turned their heads his way and Roderich tugged at his collar nervously, quickly and meekly making his way to the back of the bar where the drinks counter was.

"W't'll you have?" the bartender asked him gruffly in a voice that reminded him of those old Westerns his father had once been so fascinated with.

Roderich glanced around the bar hesitantly before returning his gaze to the barkeep, a tall, intimidating-looking blond with an unblinking stoic expression and glasses to frame his ice blue eyes. Roderich swallowed hard and fidgeted. "I, um—just a glass of chardonnay, please," he managed, the man nodding before setting down the glass he'd been polishing and going to grab the right bottle.

It was hard to not feel terribly out of place in the dingy bar, Roderich's crisp, freshly-pressed button-down making him stand out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of the bar's tired patrons, most of whom looked like if they'd just gotten off a twelve hour shift.

The bartender returned a moment later and poured him a glass without another word. Roderich offered a skittish thank you in return.

He was relieved when a few minutes past that the doors opened and a familiar mop of curly brown hair came into view. The brightness of Antonio's smile seemed to do wonders for the rundown bar, his cheerful demeanor bringing a fresh step to the atmosphere. He even greeted a few of the previously hunched over patrons, and Roderich wondered just how often Antonio frequented the establishment.

"Roderich! Buenas noches—I'm glad to see you found the place," he greeted, sliding into the seat next to the Austrian.

He didn't even have to say anything, the bartender bringing him a beer and popping the cap off without a word. "Thanks, Berwald!" Antonio said brightly, taking a drink as soon as it was set in front of him.

Roderich couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the other's grand entrance, the bar suddenly seeming ten times livelier than it had before. "You seem very…well known here," he worded carefully, bringing his own drink to his lips.

"Hm? Oh," Antonio laughed, shaking his head slightly. "It is actually a favorite bar of a friend of mine—so whenever I need a place to go it is easy to come to mind," he nodded. "My friend, he likes places like this—he says they are more genuine and connect more to 'the people'." Antonio shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. "He's an editorial writer, so he's concerned with these sorts of things, you see," he explained.

Roderich just nodded, uncertain in how to reply. Antonio was definitely showing himself to be much more of a talker than Roderich, who had always held a rather quiet demeanor. Worriedly, he hoped that wouldn't bother the other; Basch had frequently gotten on his case about not giving his opinion enough—which Roderich thought was a completely ungrounded accusation as he most certainly did give his opinion…when interests permitted.

Luckily, Antonio seemed more than happy to carry the conversation for both of them, his gold-green eyes turning to Roderich after another drink.

"You know, you never answered my question from earlier," he tilted his head. "I'd like to get to know you more," he said earnestly and Roderich blushed at his forthrightness, flustered under those wide emeralds.

"Oh, me?" he fumbled. "I, ah, I work for the state symphony. I am their bookkeeper."

Roderich had always thought it was a rather boring position for a job, but the way Antonio's eyes lit up like he'd just announced he was the president of the United States or a millionaire made his heart flutter. "Wow, really? That's amazing!" he exclaimed. "You must be so lucky, to have a job surrounded by such beautiful music day after day…."

His eyes took on a dreamy sort of glaze and Roderich shifted in his seat, embarrassed, but feeling a small sense of pride in his job for the first time. "It really is not that exciting…" he tried to tell the other, for some reason feeling obligated to clarify his position. "I'm in the office, mostly, so I do not get to hear the symphony while I work, unfortunately."

Antonio immediately picked up on his regretful tone, his head perking up like some kind of ridiculous dog with two floppy ears standing erect. "But you would like to?" he questioned.

Roderich hesitated. "Oh, well…it would be nice," he admitted. "I chose the job because I love the symphony, so admittedly it can be a bit hard being cooped up in my office all day. I feel as if it is a completely separate job." He shrugged. "But it pays well, and I am always offered discounted tickets, so it is not all a loss."

"Are you a musician yourself?" Antonio asked, leaning forward on his stool so it was just like the other night, the Spaniard's excited green eyes just inches away from his own. Roderich could feel his breath catch somewhere half way between his lungs and his throat, the lonely background music of the bar fading and even Antonio's words losing meaning.

He was just so _close_. It made Roderich think of penny romance novels and television kisses under the rain—the kinds of things that only happened when others scripted it to be so and never in the writings of real life.

It made Roderich think of his first kiss with Basch, and how clumsy and misguided it had been. Grace never had been the defining trait of their relationship.

"Roderich?"

Roderich blinked, and then remembered that Antonio had asked him a question he hadn't listened to, the embarrassment coloring his cheeks pink. "I'm sorry, what was that?" he cleared his throat, tugging at his shirt collar.

Antonio's face regained its earlier glow immediately, and Roderich had to be envious of the naivety the other seemed to display. It must have been relaxing, he thought, to keep one's mind so carefree.

"Long day at work?" he laughed. "No hay problema, I was only asking if you were also a musician."

"No," Roderich answered quickly, a bit in relief, and then hesitated. "Er, not professionally, that is. I do play piano, but I am certainly nowhere near the caliber of the musicians in the symphony. I only play for my own entertainment," he said truthfully, though his heart panged at the subject. There had been a time….

"The piano? Vaya, I'm impressed, Roderich! The piano is no easy instrument to learn, you know. Far too many strings for a simpleminded Spaniard to remember," he winked. "Maybe we could do a duet together."

"Oh, I'm really not that good..." Roderich tried to protest but Antonio would have none of it, a playful glint in the hues of his eyes.

"No, no, Rodrigo," the other insisted. "I'm sure you are an _excellent_ piano player. And I am a very patient man—I'll get you to agree to play a duet with me one day," he nodded confidently.

Roderich groaned at the nickname and the proposition, but only to hide the smile threatening at his lips. This man really did bring out the worst in him.

o o o

The rest of the evening passed in pleasant chatter. As the sunset drifted on, Roderich found that talking to Antonio was much easier than he'd ever believed himself to be capable of. Antonio was an enthusiastic conversationalist, happy to talk about anything and everything.

And, more often than not, the Spaniard brought smiles to Roderich's face that he'd long thought had been retired, making him have to take sips of wine or pretend to adjust his glasses in order to disguise them.

Antonio apparently worked as a store clerk for one of the nearby Walgreens. It wasn't a particularly glamorous job, the other admitted, but it helped pay the bills and allowed him to go to his classes on the side. Between the job, the classes, and the guitar stuff, Roderich was beginning to understand why those deep circles under Antonio's eyes never disappeared.

He was also surprised to find out that Antonio had attended the same college he had, although the Spaniard had transferred during their Sophomore year and thus had avoided taking most of the GenEd classes Roderich would have seen him in Freshman year. Roderich had not been very sociable in college anyway, more focused on his studies than the dorm room parties Erzsébet occasionally dragged him to.

Antonio admitted that he'd been a bit of a party animal in college, only really turning his concentration to his studies in his last year and a half of school. And, he'd chuckled, with friends like Francis and Gilbert, adventure was always around the corner. The group had been notoriously dubbed the 'Bad Friends Trio', known for their rowdy antics late at night and drinking lots of beer.

By the end of the evening, Roderich was feeling happier than he'd been in a long time, Antonio's humor having put him in a good mood and the drinks he'd ordered keeping him warm and content. Antonio's cheeks were slightly flushed, the other's eyes bright from the alcohol and his excitement a little more palpable when he talked.

It was nearly eleven when they finally managed to peel themselves away from the bar, each paying their respective tab and then making their way out to the city lights. Since their arrival it had cooled considerably, the streetlamps offering a warm glow under the chill of the night. The moon could be seen just rising over the tallest buildings, its shape bright and full.

Roderich looked up at the moon and then back to Antonio, sobering some under the night air. Antonio's eyes were still focused on the sky, watching the stars that shone faintly under the lights of the city. His hair lay lazily atop his head, a few locks tickling the tops of his eyes.

It almost made Roderich want to reach out and part it to the side, so he could see those green eyes that reminded him of emeralds and the greens of leaves under sunlight. The bags under Antonio's eyes were more prominent than then had been the previous week and Roderich felt something stir in him that could imagine himself fussing over whether the other was taking care of himself enough.

For someone he had met only a week before, Roderich could already feel a part of his heart giving in. Roderich wasn't sure if he wanted to fight the feeling or embrace it.

He blinked, and Antonio turned, that carefree smile on his face as Roderich watched him. "The stars are beautiful tonight," he said, and Roderich looked up at what he had already seen and nodded.

"They are," he agreed.

Antonio ordered an Uber for them both, despite Roderich's insistence, and they spent the ride back to his house in a comfortable sort of quiet, thinking about stars and moons and green leaves. When the Uber parked, Antonio walked him to the door and Roderich noticed how their hands would swing between them, almost brushing but not quite touching.

"I had a nice time tonight," he got up the courage to say once they'd reached his front door, watching Antonio under his porch light.

Antonio might have said something in return, but Roderich didn't remember it. He only remembered how natural it felt when they finally leaned in, properly, and their lips touched. He remembered the scent of alcohol that lingered between them and the gold of Antonio's emerald-colored eyes when he pulled back, haloed by that flickering porch light.

"Goodnight, Roderich," the Spaniard said and smiled at him before taking his leave. Roderich remembered standing there for a long time after, thinking about the warmth of his lips and gold of his eyes. Above, the stars were beautiful.

* * *

They went on a number of dates in the following weeks, Antonio introducing him to an abundance of cafes and bars and restaurants that Roderich had never even known existed after four years of living in the city.

At each place Antonio was greeted like an old friend, staff and patrons alike waving and exchanging greetings wherever they went. He was offered complimentary beers or was asked about his music, the Spaniard always answering with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.

Roderich was a little overwhelmed by it all, astonished by the fact that one person could have connected with so many others, especially considering how little time the Spaniard actually had on his hands.

Guiltily, he reflected that he had never been quite so outgoing, his personality more reserved and content with the quiet side of life. But being with Antonio he almost wanted to explore the alternative more, the Spaniard's enthusiasm for life and people infectious.

Antonio just made it look so _easy_ , with the way he would give a charming smile and wink when he met new people. Roderich was sure it must have been an inherited skill, or maybe a culturally-based one, because the most he could ever muster was a nervous, attempted smile and some painfully unimaginative statement about the weather.

But, undeniably, there was something about the other that was able to bring Roderich past his stunted, platitudinous stuttering. With Antonio, it was easier to smile, and even when Roderich led the conversation to a dead end, the Spaniard would be there to sling an arm around his waist with a laugh and an interesting quip, steering their conversation right back to something lively and enjoyable.

Roderich felt a bit bad that Antonio was always the one putting such an effort into their budding relationship. He'd been the one to suggest all of their outings, even when Roderich showed reluctance, and always knew _just the place_ for them to go to.

And while Antonio had never complained about the fact, Roderich was determined to show that he was just as invested in the relationship as Antonio was, and so it was just after the waiter had taken away their plates—Antonio had brought him to a charming little café during his lunch break—that he cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his shirt, his heart rate quickening.

"Antonio," he said, immediately catching the other's attention. The Spaniard looked up with him with the expression of an excitable puppy, one cheek puffed out as he sipped from his drink through a straw. _Don't let him distract you!_

"Um, as you know, my work offers me discounted tickets to the symphony and there is a performance this Friday…."

Antonio's eyes seemed to brighten and Roderich trailed off, hoping the other understood without him having to say it outright. "I know it is short notice," he added quickly, "so I understand if you are unable to, or it is not of interest, or—"

"Roderich, mi amigo," Antonio chuckled, immediately shutting Roderich up as he regarded him anxiously. "You give me so many chances to refuse that I can hardly get a word in to accept!"

Roderich blinked. "I—oh, you…yes?" his brow furrowed, feeling a bit caught off guard that it had worked that easily.

"Of course!" he nodded eagerly. "Friday, you said?"

"Yes, um, Friday at seven," Roderich said, still in shock that it had all gone so well. Maybe this was why Antonio was able to do it so smoothly?

Antonio beamed at him in return. "Friday at seven," he repeated. "I will pick you up at your place, then?"

"What?" Roderich blinked. His cheeks colored slightly before he gave a small nod, a fluttering feeling in his stomach. "Oh, yes, that, um, would work. Thank you…."

"Bueno!" Antonio affirmed, and then plucked the check from the table before Roderich could protest. "My treat," he winked and Roderich felt his cheeks heat up.

Walking back to his office, cheek still warm from where the Spaniard had offered a parting kiss, Roderich felt a sense of accomplishment from the lunch. It felt like so long since he had last taken the initiative for himself, and, as he hung up his jacket next to his desk, Roderich thought to himself that Antonio's winning smile had been worth it.

o o o

Antonio picked him up in front of his house at twenty to seven, knocking at his door in a slightly-rumpled button-down shirt and loose tie.

It was all very honest looking: the shirt looked like the kind that hadn't been worn in a year, pulled last-minute from the back of a drawer; the dark green striped tie didn't exactly match the dark red shirt Antonio was wearing, and in fact looked like an odd Christmas color combo or some kind of ridiculous— _ridiculously handsome_ —tomato. But still, Roderich couldn't help but chuckle, and he reached out to fix the other's cravat and smooth out creases in his collar, feeling an extra thump in his chest as he did so.

"Good evening," he said as he worked.

"Buenas noches," Antonio returned, looking almost sheepish. He scratched at the back of his head while Roderich fixed his collar. "It's been a while since I've gone out to some place so fancy," he tried to explain. "So I might not have a lot of clothes that fit such an occasion…."

Roderich brushed off the other's shoulder as a finalizing touch, stepping back to make sure he hadn't missed anything. "It really isn't that fancy," he assured. "Actually, it's the family pops concert, so the music is geared toward younger audiences," he added a bit embarrassedly. "I hope you don't mind…."

Antonio looked surprised and then laughed, looking rather humored about it all. "No no, I don't mind at all. You are always so thoughtful, Roderich!" he smiled and patted the other's shoulder. "Now, should we go before I get us there late and you have something real to complain about?" he winked.

A pink dusting covered Roderich's cheeks though he felt something glow inside of him at the praise. _Look at yourself, Roderich. He's made a blushing schoolboy out of you…_ he thought before shaking his head and offering his own tentative chuckle. "Yes, I would like to be on time," he replied.

"See? I know you too well!" Antonio said happily and quickly steered the Austrian toward his car parked against the curb.

Roderich felt almost giddy as they drove toward the concert hall downtown. They'd gone on plenty of dates before, but this one was his own doing, his own opportunity to put himself out on the front line; the thought was thrilling in a way.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that Antonio's conversational chatter became background noise, the Spaniard off talking about something that'd happened at his work the other day. Roderich nodded when appropriate—years of friendship with Erzsébet had developed that skill—but his mind was preoccupied in thinking about their relationship.

They were nearing a month since they'd started dating, and Roderich was just as enamored with Antonio—and Antonio with him, he hoped—as he had been at the beginning. Erzsébet had always talked about the dangers of the "honeymoon period," but Roderich had rejected that notion not long after dating Basch, with whom he was certain he'd never had a grace period with in their dating.

Besides, by Roderich's standards, he shouldn't even like Antonio. There was little in the Spaniard's personality that would seem compatible with Roderich's, which he supposed might've been the reason why they were so well-fitted together. Opposites attract, as the saying went.

Before he knew it, they'd arrived at the concert hall, Antonio pulling into one of the nearby parking garages and stopping to get a ticket from the bored looking attendant. Roderich blinked and refocused on looking out the front window, his companion resuming his one-sided conversation as soon as they'd turned into the parking area.

Antonio was, admittedly, a bit oblivious, Roderich thought, humming noncommittally to something the other said and then zoning back out from the conversation. He supposed that was a talent in its own right, and it certainly made for someone who would never be bored.

"See, didn't I say I'd get us here on time?" Antonio grinned at Roderich, who blinked, realizing he'd been addressed.

His glanced at the time on his watch and chuckled, unbuckling himself as he replied, "Yes, yes, you did. I must admit that I'm impressed."

Antonio gave one of his radiant smiles at the compliment and ducked out of the car, going around to the other side and opening Roderich's door before he could do so himself. Roderich swore he would've seen a tail wagging, if Antonio had one. "Thank you," he said, stepping out.

"Anything for mi bello," he winked, hooking arms with Roderich and leading him inside despite the Austrian's blush.

The foyer was mostly filled with families, as Roderich had predicted, the atmosphere casual and light as families dressed in their Sunday best mingled before the performance started. Roderich had tickets to the balcony on the second floor, so they made their way up the large, velvet-lined staircase to the quieter upstairs section of the concert hall.

Roderich always liked being up in the balconies for performances. He felt like he could actually breathe, the openness of the auditorium giving a wide view. Once they were handed pamphlets on the season's performances, they took their seat near the railing, the lights in the audience dim compared to the glow of the center stage.

Babble wafted up from the ground floor, filling the performance hall with a warm, rolling sound that swelled and ebbed with the acoustics of the room. Roderich took his seat carefully, folding his coat over the back of the chair before sitting, but Antonio seemed invigorated by the energy of the room, the Spaniard leaning forward to rest his elbows against the railing.

"Wow, we're so high up!" he exclaimed, his eyes sweeping over the crowds below. "Do you think they can see me?" he waved at no one in particular.

"I don't think most of them are looking up," Roderich replied in amusement, watching his boyfriend try and wave to the families down below. Antonio was like an easily-excitable child, bright green eyes wide as if experiencing something for the first time, the world a new and exhilarating place.

"Oh….Oh well," Antonio shrugged, not looking bothered by the fact. He gave one last wave before sitting back, leaning against the back of the chair casually despite the regal setting. "You know," he said thoughtfully, lips pursed as he regarded Roderich. "You look like you belong here."

Roderich's brows furrowed questioningly. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You know," replied Antonio, "like you're used to these sophisticated places. It fits you, Rodrigo," he nodded approvingly.

"Oh…" Roderich blinked. "Well, thank you, I suppose."

Antonio chuckled and reached his arm across the back of Roderich's chair, the action making Roderich blush. "I speak only the truth," he nodded sagely. "One day I hope to see you on that stage."

His eyes turned to regard the stage in question and then back to Antonio, the flush on his cheeks deepening. "Thank you…?" he replied hesitantly, unsure how to take the comment.

"It's a good thing," Antonio nodded affirmatively and then quieted down as the audience lights dimmed and the lights over the stage brightened, illuminating the polished wood of the floor.

From both sides of the stage the orchestra members entered, holding their instruments under their arm or by hand as they went to take their seat. Roderich applauded as the concertmaster then walked onto the stage, striding to his place at the front of the violins and raising his instrument to indicate that they would tune.

It was a golden sound, the soprano trill of an open A. Roderich closed his eyes and let the sound of the rest of the orchestra joining in filling him slowly like a rich, warm honey. He was always reminded of the beginnings to epic poems from Greek masters, the opening lines asking for a muse, god, or goddess alike to bless them before the performance.

Soon the last hum of string died down and another swell of applause began when the MC came on, stopping at the microphone set off to the right of the stage. Roderich let his attention drift as the MC—a committee member on the symphony's board—began to speak, his eyes grazing over the orchestra members.

He thought about Antonio's words, saying that one day he hoped to see Roderich on the stage.

He closed his eyes and tried to envision it: a grand piano sitting center stage, its lid lifted and reflecting the delicate insides of the instrument to those close enough to see; the orchestra had already tuned and as Roderich entered the stage the auditorium was dead quiet, holding its breath to see what marvels he would perform.

A warm feeling filled the pit of Roderich's stomach and he smiled to himself, pulling his attention back to the orchestra on stage. The conductor had come out during his daydreaming, a rather stout-looking man whose coattails swayed when he moved. The man lifted his arms and at his downbeat the concert began, the first piece something quick and involved to get the audience interested.

In spite of himself, Roderich found his eyes straying over to his companion every so often, anxious to assure himself that the Spaniard was enjoying the night. He'd suggested the concert, after all—the last thing he wanted was for Antonio to hate it or be bored.

But as it were, Antonio seemed to be enjoying himself quite well, even leaning forward a bit in his chair as they listened. It was rather endearing, and Roderich felt a part of himself fall a little harder for the other as he watched, his heart thrumming loudly in his chest.

All too soon the concert was over, and the audience was giving the final applause as the musicians bowed and took their leave. The lights came back on and around them audience members began to stand up and stretch, a steady stream of them beginning to shuffle towards the exits. Roderich stood as well, grateful to be able to after sitting for so many pieces. Antonio was stretching his arms up next to him, the Spaniard's button-down shirt pulling up a bit from where he'd tucked it in.

"Excellent choice for a date, Roderich," he complimented, smiling at the Austrian.

Roderich tried to keep his cheeks from heating up, clearing his throat instead. "I'm glad that you enjoyed it," he returned, leaning down to retrieve his coat.

He was taken by surprise when he straightened and found the other's arm being offered to him, the Spaniard's white-toothed grin having an almost child-like quality about it. "Are you ready to go?" Antonio asked.

Roderich glanced around them but of the patrons left, none of them were sparing them a second glance, instead concentrating on the slow-moving line to the exits. He gave a hesitant sort of smile to the other and nodded before taking his arm, the Spaniard looking positively victorious as they joined the exiting crowd.

They made their way out to Antonio's car without a hitch, nobody even looking their way as they ascended the stairs to the third level of the parking garage. Roderich remained silent as they drove back to his apartment, his thoughts occupied with the man sitting next to him. This time, Antonio didn't seem to mind the quiet, not even the radio humming between them as they passed by city lights and sidewalks occupied with the thrum of city night life.

Antonio pulled in under the street lamp in front of his house, the yellowed light showing off the flickering silhouettes of moths. They sat there for a moment, Roderich reluctant to leave the other just yet.

"I had a wonderful time tonight," Antonio said genuinely, finally breaking the silence.

Roderich nodded, trying to work up the courage for what he really wanted to say. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, the sound quivering in his throat as he looked up to Antonio's big, green eyes.

"Would— would you like to come in?" he asked, wetting his lips nervously.

Antonio looked surprised before recovering quickly, a soft chuckle to his lips as he shifted in his seat. "I'd love to," he answered genuinely, pulling back to shut off the engine. Roderich watched him with his heart still beating wildly against his chest, though there was a hopeful feeling to it now.

He stepped out of the car after Antonio, leading the way up the sidewalk to his front porch and then digging around in his coat pocket for his keys. He let them in and flicked the hallway lights on, elongated shadows cast throughout the house.

"Please make yourself at home," he told the other, taking off his coat and hanging it on one of the pegs beside the door. "I could make us some coffee if you'd like," he offered, shifting from one foot to the other and feeling suddenly self-conscious as Antonio looked around. "I apologize that it's a bit messy," he added quickly, in an obligatory statement. "I should have thought to clean up before we left..."

Antonio simply shook his head, a goofy grin back on his features. "No worries, mi bello, it's very much your household, I can tell," he winked.

Roderich wasn't quite sure what the Spaniard meant with the statement, but he didn't ask to clarify, instead just nodding in an abashed reply and suggesting that they head to his kitchen.

Despite being a relatively modest renter's house, the space had an open feeling to it, mostly since Roderich still hadn't bothered to do much decorating since he'd moved in the year before. With the exception of some furniture he'd transferred from his old flat, the upright piano he kept in the front living room was the biggest touch of personalization he'd done.

Papers organized into messy stacks littered the top of the counter and he mumbled an embarrassed apology as they entered the kitchen, hurrying to move them to the side so Antonio could sit down at the breakfast bar counter. "Sorry…" he muttered, cheeks pink.

"Don't worry about it," Antonio chuckled, sliding onto the barstool. He looked around some more, taking in the slightly ruffled household. More papers—a combination of financial reports and junk mail—covered the table and blankets sat rumpled on the couch, the pillows still leaning against the legs. The disorder reminded him of Roderich when he got flustered, a disorganized, but very personable mess.

Antonio laughed to himself at the thought and Roderich looked up from where he was putting the kettle on for coffee. "What's so funny?" he asked, glancing around himself self-consciously.

"Nothing, nothing," Antonio assured. "It was just a thought."

Roderich huffed but turned back to pull down the tub of coffee grounds he kept in the cupboard. "Would you like cream or sugar with your coffee?" he asked, pulling both out for himself.

"Sugar, por favor," the other requested.

Roderich nodded and placed filters over each of their cups before turning around and leaning against counter slightly to face the Spaniard. "I, um…" he started and then trailed off into embarrassed silence when he couldn't think of anything to say.

Antonio gave him an over-generous smile anyway and leaned forward on the breakfast counter, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "Do you live here by yourself?" he asked.

"Me?" Roderich blinked. Antonio nodded and smiled brightly. "Oh, um, yeah, I do," he answered. "I moved here last year—before I was in an apartment."

"Oh? Well congratulations on the upgrade then," Antonio said genuinely, watching Roderich from under the fan of his eyelashes. "I'm hoping to find my own place someday, too," he added almost wistfully. "Until then it's one bedroom apartments for me," the Spaniard chuckled.

Roderich tried to smile encouragingly. "I'm sure you'll get there someday," he comforted.

Behind him the kettle began to whistle and so he turned around, pouring the hot water into both of their mugs. He kept quiet as he made their coffee, adding sugar and cream to his and just sugar to Antonio's. "Here," he murmured, bringing the drink over to the other and settling against the counter opposite of him.

"Gracias, bello," Antonio beamed. Roderich ducked his head embarrassedly, taking a sip of his coffee in distraction.

"I see you're already getting started on that music career," Antonio commented after a moment, making Roderich look up in confusion.

"Huh?"

Antonio shrugged his shoulder to the pile of papers Roderich had moved earlier. Between the stacks of financial jargon were a few timid slips of sheet music, the phrase lines and arpeggios sticking out amongst the reports.

"Oh…" he said dumbly and reached over to pull the music from the pile. "They must have gotten mixed in there when I was, um, cleaning yesterday…"

Across the counter Antonio looked up at him in amusement. "There's no need to sound so ashamed," he said. "I am sure you are an excellent piano player."

"I'm—I'm not sure about excellent…" Roderich mumbled red-facedly.

Antonio hummed encouragingly. "Maybe I will get to hear you play later…?" he prompted.

Roderich shook his head quickly, putting down his coffee mug. "I, ah, I'm sorry, but I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"Why not?" Antonio looked surprised, copying the other in setting down his drink.

"Because, I…" Roderich struggled, trying to find a response that wouldn't make him sound so shrewd.

Luckily, Antonio took the hint in dropping the subject instead of pushing it any further, chuckling softly as he lifted the mug back to his lips. "No need to worry over it, Rodrigo, I understand. You can play for me when it feels right, sí?" he winked.

"Perhaps…" Roderich returned hesitantly.

It wasn't that Roderich thought himself a _bad_ pianist, necessarily, but compared to Antonio who could play guitar so beautifully and sing and perform in front of crowds…Roderich felt entire levels below the other. It was just as Basch had said, there was no point in exerting so much effort in something that would get him nowhere. Besides, Antonio was like some kind of guitar-playing Adonis statue and the rest of them mere mortals—it was a discouraging thought.

"I think I need something a bit stronger," he muttered, dumping the rest of his coffee down the sink.

"Stronger than coffee?" Antonio teased, although his green eyes followed the Austrian carefully.

Roderich didn't respond, instead reaching up to the liquor cabinet and pulling down a bottle of sherry he'd bought back in December. "Would you like a glass?" he offered.

"I upset you, didn't I?" Antonio said instead, watching as Roderich poured them both a glass anyway.

Roderich rolled his shoulders, handing off the wine glass to Antonio before taking a sip of his own. "Not really," he admitted. "It's just that…I don't want you to think I am a better piano player than I am—I really only play for my own entertainment, I don't practice seriously."

"So?" Antonio shrugged. "You do not have to study seriously to be a good musician. I wouldn't be half as good as I am now if I was so serious about it all the time. Music's something you have to do for yourself, that's what I choose to believe."

"I…suppose that's true," Roderich relented after a moment, staring at the contents of his glass before bringing it back to his lips. "You make it look so easy, though…" he sighed.

Antonio chuckled. "Because I've practiced and I love it. Passion is everything, bello."

Roderich nodded, each settling into their own thoughts. It was a calm summer night and Roderich could hear crickets chirping outside the kitchen window.

Even just sitting with the other was enough, he thought, the Spaniard's presence comforting and even a little exhilarating. He finished off his glass before reaching to pour himself another, offering Antonio the same.

"No, no—I still have to drive home," he reminded, shaking his head. "That is some strong sherry you have there, though," he nodded to the bottle.

Roderich turned the bottle over in his hand, glancing at the label. "It was a New Year's gift for myself," he explained, setting it back on the counter.

"Ah. Well, Happy New Year's, then," Antonio replied cheekily, raising his empty glass to clink against Roderich's.

Maybe it was the sherry, but Roderich felt a giddy warmth bubble through him, a small laugh escaping at the other's silliness. "Happy New Year's indeed," he returned, raising his glass in response. They clinked the glassware together and Roderich tipped his glass back, finishing off half the drink in one swallow.

"Don't you think you should slow down?" Antonio asked, one eyebrow raised.

Roderich waved off his concern, setting the bottle back down on the counter. "I'll be fine," he assured, even if his cheeks had started to grow a little warm and the lights seemed brighter than he remembered.

"So do you, um, live by yourself, then?" he asked to continue their conversation from earlier.

"Sí,"Antonio nodded. "It gets crowded with only one room, you know? Though actually, I did share an apartment with my friend Gilbert for a while after college," he added thoughtfully. "You know—the one with the silver hair?" he said, bringing Roderich back to the previous week when he'd finally, formally, met the other's friends. Gilbert had made a number of comments about how Roderich "couldn't take his eyes off of Toni" that first night at the café, much to the other's chagrin.

Antonio chuckled. "Now _that_ was crowded. But we made it work, and it was nice to have someone else around," he admitted. "That was the year we met Francis, actually, and Dios míos were those some crazy days!" the Spaniard laughed, hunched over the counter. "We sure knew how to party back then—it was crazy."

Roderich thought back to his experiences after college. He'd gone straight into graduate school following his Bachelors, feeling terribly alone since he'd never been very good at making friends in school anyway and Erzsébet had transferred the year before to get her Master of Fine Arts. It was in that time that he met Basch, a rather surly Swiss who'd graduated with a major in Accounting and a minor in International Business. They didn't have much in common besides sitting by themselves at lunch each day.

He didn't remember when or why they started sitting next to each other, but it became routine and a stunted, if not awkward, friendship formed from there. It was after a rather tipsy New Year's Eve party that they began dating, and Roderich had felt as if the golden years of his 20s had finally begun.

It was unfortunate that the feeling had not lasted long.

"Roderich?"

"Yes?" he answered automatically and then blinked, coming out of his self-induced stupor. "Oh, um, sorry, I got distracted…" he explained sheepishly, quickly wetting his throat with another drink. Thinking about Basch always did leave a bitter taste in his mouth these days.

"Not a problem!" the Spaniard beamed, patting Roderich's hand that was resting on the counter. Roderich started and looked up at the other.

"What were you thinking about?" Antonio asked.

Roderich breathed out and decided to be open about it. "My ex-boyfriend," he admitted. "I mean—not in that way," he amended quickly in case Antonio thought he was being wistful. "I just—when you were talking about your experiences after college, I couldn't help but look back and think about how dull mine had been compared to yours…."

"Qué?" Antonio blinked. "I'm sure you had good times too—you shouldn't compare your experiences to mine; I was a different person then, even if I do still like to party," he chuckled lightly.

"My fondest memories of that time are of dating Basch, and even those are tarnished by what became of our relationship," he sighed. "Basch never had been a very romantic person—our dates mostly consisted of going out to ridiculously fancy restaurants and sitting there in our stiff, formal suits. Neither of us could really afford to eat out at such places, but we both had appearances to keep." He shrugged one shoulder.

"Was he your first boyfriend?" Antonio asked and then immediately backtracked. "Ay…sorry, that was rather forward of me. I did not mean to ask such a personal question this soon."

Roderich shook his head, swirling the dregs of his drink around in his glass. "No, no, you're fine," he sighed, adding in his mind, _Perfect, actually._ His shoulders slumped and in afterthought he set his glass down rather unsteadily, its contents sloshing against the sides in a honey-colored wave. Antonio watched him from the counter.

"He was," Roderich said.

"Was what?"

"My first," he replied and leaned in, pressing his lips against Antonio's. The Spaniard seemed surprised at first but there was no move to pull away and soon Roderich felt his kiss being returned, Antonio's lips against his own and emerald green eyes watching him through half-lidded vision.

Roderich began to push for more upon receiving the positive response, his hands supporting himself against the counter as he shifted, standing on the very tips of his toes in a desperate sort of reach. Antonio's head tilted against him and Roderich lifted one hand off the counter, suddenly needing to touch those locks of curly brown hair and knocking over his wineglass in the process.

"Mm, Roderich—" Antonio began to pull away when the glassware made a tinny sound against the surface, sherry spilling over his hand.

Roderich immediately pulled him back, making an impatient sound in the back of his throat and using his fingers to tangle in the other's soft, brown locks. A muffled protest escaped Antonio's lips and he jerked his head back, separating their kiss with a wet smack. "Vale, what's gotten into you?" he frowned, breaths short.

Roderich deflated some, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, the spilled sherry still sticky against his skin. "Was I that bad?" he asked dejectedly.

Antonio frowned. "No—I—that wasn't what I meant, bello, not at all," he assured quickly. "But wouldn't you rather do that when you're a little more…sober?"

"Sober?" Roderich blinked, frowning. "I've only had a glass or two—I'm fine."

To his surprise, the brunet only shook his head, pointing to the half-empty bottle of sherry still sitting next to the sink. "The alcohol was affecting you, I could tell. I've been in a lot of situations, Rodrigo, trust me when I say it's better that we stop."

Upon seeing Roderich's face he chuckled and continued, "I assure you, there are many things I would love to do with you, Roderich, but maybe we should take it slow, sí?"

"I…" Roderich began and then when the gravity of what he'd done began to weigh on him his cheeks flushed a whole new shade of embarrassment, the color creeping to his ears and the back of his neck. "I'm sorry," he fumbled. "I—I wasn't thinking."

"No worries, no worries," Antonio waved off, leaning back in his seat. "I wouldn't want you to do something you'd regret, hm? You're too special for that," he winked and then slid off the barstool, Roderich still trying to process what he'd said. "I think I should leave now, before we really do something we both regret. But I'll call you later?" he asked hopefully, lifting his jacket off the hook and beginning to pull it on. Roderich didn't even remember walking down the hall with him.

"Oh, um, sure," Roderich said after a bit too long of a pause, blinking out of his reverie. "That would be great."

"Bueno," Antonio smiled and opened the front door. "Then I bid you goodnight, Roderich. Thanks for inviting me to the concert," he said, pecking a kiss on Roderich's cheeks before he could respond and closing the door after him.

* * *

A few weeks after the concert, Roderich ran into Gilbert at the store. He hadn't actually spent a lot of time around the other, but the man's near-silver hair made him easy to identify, and if anything, Gilbert seemed to recognize him as Roderich moved down the aisle, shopping basket in tow.

"Roderich?"

The brunet blinked, looking up at the sound of his name. He quickly recognized the other man as Antonio's friend, though he struggled with matching him to a name. "Oh…um, hello," he settled with instead, hoping the other wouldn't catch his hesitation.

"Gilbert," the man said. He moved his half-full basket from one hand to the other, extending his free hand out to shake. "We've met a few times before. You're Antonio's boyfriend, right?"

 _Gilbert….That's right. He's the one that writes for that big magazine,_ Roderich thought to himself, the pieces slowly sliding back into place. Gilbert was dressed in a rather expensive looking button-down, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows and the ends of his shirt tucked in to his slacks. Roderich wondered if he'd just come from a meeting, maybe talking over his newest piece before publication.

"Uh, hello? You still there?" Gilbert's voice broke into his thoughts, making the brunet look up quickly and focus on the other's quirked expression.

"Yes—sorry," he cleared his throat, shifting his feet. "I, um, yes, I am Antonio's boyfriend. We've met when Antonio invites me out drinking with you and, er, Francis."

The other chuckled as if remembering something entertaining, an amused gleam entering his expression. "Yeah, I remember you," he said with a small grin that left Roderich feeling confused. "Seen Toni anytime lately? How's he doing?"

Roderich tried to push the feeling back down his chest, feeling a bit self-conscious under the other's presence. "Oh, um, Antonio's fine," he answered. "We're having dinner tonight and he asked me to pick up a few ingredients," he explained.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Already doing the grocery shopping, huh? You two living together, then?"

"Pardon?" Roderich's eyes widened.

"Nah," Gilbert shrugged one shoulder. "Toni would have told us if you'd moved in with him. There's not a lot of room in that apartment of his, you know."

He held up one finger and waggled it as if in warning, and Roderich couldn't help but smile at the cheeky gesture, the other's formal attire clashing with his not-so-serious attitude. This certainly was a change from the last time he'd met Gilbert, where the silver-haired man had hardly interacted with him at all.

"Yes, I know," he said softly, looking away to hide his smile. "But he seems to make it work just fine. I have never heard him complain."

Gilbert laughed. "Yeah, Tonio's a pretty easy-going guy. He'll roll with the punches, at least until he's had too much to drink. Then he just gets downright scary, holy shit. Though you didn't hear that from me—I'm sure he knows better than to lose control like that around you.

"Anyway," Gilbert said, rolling his shoulders back and straightening his stance, "I should get going so I can feed Gilbird, but it was nice running into you. I don't think I've seen Toni look this happy in years, so you're doing something right. See you around, Roderich."

Roderich watched as Gilbert left with a wave over his shoulder, the other's words sending a warmth through his chest even as he noticed how nicely Gilbert's back muscled rolled with his movements.

o o o

Antonio's apartment was even smaller than the one Roderich had lived in, the tiny one bedroom flat barely squeezing in a kitchen and queen-sized bed. The one thing it did have, however, was a large window on one side of the room that gave off a magnificent view of the city, the hum of traffic coming from below.

Despite its size, the flat had a comfortable feeling—certainly cozier than Roderich's plain little renter's house. Framed photographs of Antonio's family and friends—especially of Gilbert, Francis, and an elderly woman Antonio identified as his late _abuelita_ —were placed wherever there was, and wasn't, room, the Spaniard's grin bright and cheery in all of them. His guitar was raised up on a stand in the corner, a messy pile of cords and other recording gear Roderich didn't recognize coiled in front of it.

Roderich thought that it all felt very genuine, the same kind of feeling one got when they knew they were _home_. A red and yellow afghan thrown over the back of the couch reflected the late colors of summer that filtered in through the window, and across the kitchen table, Antonio was illuminated in orange and gold, a thoughtful expression on his face.

They'd just finished dinner—a traditional Spanish dish passed down from Antonio's grandmother—and were basking in the afterglow of a satisfying meal, the air warm and lazy inside the one room apartment.

"Thank you for dinner," Roderich finally said, breaking the stillness of the room.

Antonio shifted as if stirring from a trance, his eyes turning to regard Roderich across the table. "Hm? Oh, sí. Thank you for stopping for the ingredients—making this recipe always reminds me of my abuelita, you know? It is such a treat to be able to share it with loved ones."

"It was no trouble," he assured. "And actually, I, ah, ran into one of your friends at the store," he added after a hesitation.

"Oh? Who?" Antonio asked, eyebrows scrunching together above his bright green eyes.

"Gilbert. He recognized me first, actually. I was surprised," Roderich shrugged.

Antonio chuckled. "I do not think it is so surprising. Who could forget a face as beautiful as yours, hm? And Gilbert has a talent for remembering faces—he's good at that kind of thing."

Roderich ducked his head in embarrassment, murmuring, "Oh, well, I suppose so…" before trailing off and falling silent. Antonio seemed content to simply stare at him in that time, a happy expression on his face as the setting sun created black and gold pillars with the shadows that stretched along the apartment.

Something still bothered Roderich about his run-in with Gilbert earlier in the day, but he couldn't place his finger on it. He'd hardly talked with the silver-haired male before their encounter; even when Antonio brought him along for drinks, Francis was usually being the chattiest one of the group next to Antonio. Gilbert had always seemed the quiet and brooding type, laughing and joking with his friends when the occasion pulled him to and otherwise ignoring Roderich.

In fact, Roderich had been sure that the other held some kind of grudge against him until their meeting earlier—the man had seemed so friendly then.

He almost missed when Antonio got up and started picking up plates, carrying them to the sink. "Oh—Antonio, I could have gotten my own plate," he tried to protest, hurrying to help the other carry dishes in.

"No worries," the other chuckled, setting them in the slightly-yellowed sink and running some hot water.

Roderich set his dishes down on the narrow counter and began packing up the leftover food, the sounds of the kitchen a warm and comfortable feeling.

Once everything was put away, Antonio suggested they watch a movie and they moved over to the couch, settling down on the secondhand upholstery with Roderich curled against the Spaniard's side, feet tucked in under him. He could feel warmth radiating from the other's body, Antonio's lean muscles more apparent in close proximity.

Things started out innocently enough.

Roderich had been genuinely interested in the programming on the television, but that nagging feeling kept coming back and soon it was Roderich's lips on Antonio's and Antonio's lips on Roderich's and the movie shifted to being nothing more than background noise.

The red and yellow afghan began to slide down the back of the couch and Antonio sucked on Roderich's lip, pulling at it with his teeth. He could feel himself being slowly pushed back against the cushions, the fabric cool against the fever racing under his skin.

Antonio's kisses were insistent, licking and nipping against his lips and tasting of the spices they'd used for dinner. When the Spaniard began to move between his legs Roderich obliged and snaked his arms around the other's neck to pull him closer.

"Antonio…" he breathed, the heat growing between them.

"Antonio—"

His voice caught in a moan as he spread his legs wider, the last few stretches of the sun sinking behind the sky. The other rolled his hips against Roderich's, pressing the front of their jeans together in a way that brought that much-needed friction.

Roderich let his head fall back against the cushions, his legs hooking over the other and bucking upwards in a demand for more.

Antonio chuckled and leaned down to suck at his neck in response, one hand bracing himself against the couch while the other came up to Roderich's hair, musician's fingers combing through the chocolate locks like they were the strings of the most delicate instrument.

Roderich felt lips and teeth latch on to the pale skin of his neck, tugging and then kissing at the spot playfully. He shifted one of the hands clutching at Antonio's back to tangle in his hair instead, giving the other a reprimanding pull. "Don't—don't leave marks," he mumbled, the end hissing into another moan as Antonio jerked his hips forward once more.

"But mi angél," Antonio murmured between kisses, his breath heavy and warm against Roderich's neck, "how else am I to show off this gorgeous man as mine?" he chuckled and bit the tender skin again.

His mind couldn't even form a coherent reply, the heat that was coiling lower and lower in his body the only thing he could think to focus on. Antonio's hand moved from his hair to down between their bodies, rubbing at an area that made Roderich squirm and arch his back off the cushions.

"Feels good, sí?"

"Yes—oh _God_ , yes," Roderich groaned, his breaths quickening and his heart pounding madly in his chest. "Just _don't_ _stop_ ," he gasped.

The couch was perhaps a bit small for their activities but neither of them were willing to move, too caught up in touch and taste and sound. Antonio's hips kept rocking against his and Roderich moved himself willingly in response, his back arching with each gasp of breath.

There was barely any light left in the sky, the apartment colder with the light gone but Roderich feeling every searing touch to his skin. It was like bobbing in an ocean, letting the waves drift and push against him in an endless, mind-numbing pattern. Hazily, he could feel Antonio's breath ghost against his ear, the Spaniard murmuring and asking something that Roderich could only nod to.

And, perhaps he should have listened because in the next moment the Spaniard was moving away, no hand between his legs and gentle, but strong fingers untangling Roderich's limbs from his body. Roderich voiced his protest and the other chuckled, giving a quick kiss to his forehead in consolation.

Pouting, but the tightness in his body making him unwilling to move, Roderich watched as Antonio walked over to the bathroom and heard him rummaging through the drawers. He returned a moment later with a small tube of lubricant in hand, holding it curled under his fingers as he leaned down to press a heavy kiss against Roderich's lips that left him feeling terribly aroused.

Seeing the lubricant in Antonio's hand made Roderich's breathing hitch, the realization that they were really going to do this making him feel lightheaded and eager. It had been too long since his last encounter, and there was no denying his desires for the other—he'd made that much clear on the night of the concert.

Roderich was ready to propel their relationship to the next level. He was ready to touch and taste and hear Antonio in only the most intimate of ways, to _feel_ the other move inside him.

Impatiently, he pulled at the Spaniard's shirt, urging him to slip it off so they could finally see each other properly. Antonio was only too happy to comply, quickly shedding the clothing and tossing it to some forgotten corner of the room. Tanned hands moved to his belt next, unbuckling the strap and then yanking it out of the rings in a motion that made Roderich shiver.

"I want to see you, Antonio," he breathed, watching with hunger as the other wiggled out of his jeans, now dressed in nothing but fitted, red boxer briefs.

The other man flashed a grin in his direction and threw the jeans in the same area his shirt had gone previously. "All in good time, bello," he said, moving so he was leaning over Roderich once more. "Let's get you undressed as well, sí?"

Without waiting for a reply Antonio hooked his thumbs under Roderich's jeans and pulled them and his underwear down in one go, causing the brunet to gasp and buck his hips forward.

The exposure only made him harder, the relief he felt at finally being freed overtaking any other sensation. He hardly even noticed as Antonio pulled his long legs through the holes of the pants and dumped the clothing next to the couch.

Without the barrier of fabric, every touch, every movement in the air was heightened, leaving Roderich breathless from just the feeling.

One of Antonio's hands wandered up the inside of his thigh and he sucked in a sharp breath, the skin tingling after the Spaniard's touch. Antonio's other hand had moved up to undo the first few buttons of Roderich's shirt, the movements deft and precise.

"Antonio…" Roderich said in a voice that was dangerously close to a whine, his need throbbing between them.

"So impatient, my Rodrigo is," Antonio chuckled, shifting forward to deliver another kiss. His hand moved away from its work at Roderich's shirt and moved instead to cup the Austrian's chin, tilting his face up in a kiss that was slow and teasing, riling Roderich up even more.

"I want you," Roderich explained after the kiss had broken, smoothing his palm down Antonio's bare side before stopping to tug at the other's underwear. The Spaniard laughed softly and obliged, pulling the last garment off with little ceremony, the sight leaving Roderich's mouth dry and his heart stuttering.

"Like what you see?" Antonio teased, bucking his hips once. Roderich's eyes followed the motion unashamedly.

"Yes…" he breathed, almost unconsciously. The sight awoke something carnal Roderich and he needed— _craved_ the other like he'd never desired anything before. Antonio chuckled again and shifted his weight back, moving to get his fingers coated so he could prepare Roderich for what was to come.

Sensing what needed to be done, the violet-eyed man moved back against the couch, his breaths quick and his eyes dilated as he watched his partner. Antonio leaned back over him and pressed a quick kiss to his brow before sticking the first digit in, Roderich's breath catching and his body tensing ever so slightly to the intrusion.

"Relax, Roderich, it'll be okay," the other man murmured and Roderich breathed out, forcing his muscles to unclench and his toes to uncurl.

Antonio's kisses moved to his mouth, the Spaniard's lips molding against his and pulling with just enough sting to keep his mind off of the feeling of being stretched. Roderich let the other's tongue slip into his mouth willingly, the slide of slick muscle against his teeth distracting him as another finger was entered. "Me haces quererte," Antonio breathed against his lips and Roderich shivered. It was all so satisfying—everything he had ever dreamed of and real; tangible.

Roderich craved every second of it, mind and body aching for the other.

When at last, Antonio slipped his fingers from him and began to roll on a condom, Roderich dared it all to be a dream, for himself to wake and still be living his average, boring life with his average, boring job. Antonio looked up at him with a smile and Roderich jolted, seeing the passion that lay there. Suddenly every thought down that line was wiped from Roderich's mind, those white teeth and green eyes the only things he needed to see.

"Ready?" Antonio asked and he nodded, dazedly and breathless.

Antonio kissed the side of his mouth and lifted his leg with his hand under Roderich's thigh, pressing in with one smooth motion. Roderich's eyes clenched and he choked out a gasp, his body screaming with sensation.

" _Lo siento, lo siento, mi amor,_ " he heard Antonio murmur, dimly registering the kisses being pressed against his forehead his nose his lips.

Finally he gave the tiniest of nods and Antonio began to move, driving pleasure into his body with each thrust. Time blurred and Roderich felt like he was floating, their bodies moving like music, sweet notes pulled from their lips. Soon the room became enveloped in darkness, the flickering screen of the television—showing some black and white nickelodeon where the couple was just meeting—the only light in the room beyond the faded colors of the city outside the window.

Roderich's arms somehow found themselves wound around Antonio's back again, his short nails digging into the muscles that rippled there. In bursts of passion their lips would meet for a kiss, everything lips and tongue and the silent plead for _more_.

For the first time in his life, Roderich felt like he truly understood the meaning of making love, Antonio's movements sweet and rolling and Roderich arching up to meet them every time. Antonio obliged to every need Roderich had, and all too soon Roderich found himself at his end, his movements becoming less refined and unraveling until he came, one last shuddering cry escaping his lips.

He could feel Antonio follow suit not too long after, the Spaniard's arms quivering next to his head. Roderich closed his eyes to the sensation, his vice-like hold remaining on the other until finally Antonio's movements slowed, leaving nothing more than their exhausted and sated bodies.

Antonio let out one last, breathless laugh and pressed his lips against Roderich's in the gentle form of a kiss. He pulled away a moment later, using a tissue to clean off Roderich's chest and then toss the condom in the trash. Just as before, Roderich watched him from the couch with a tired, but satisfied, expression, slowly regaining his breath.

"I should go home before I fall asleep," he murmured once Antonio had returned to the living room. His eyes were already half-lidded, feeling heavier and heavier by the second.

"I wouldn't…want to impose…."

Antonio's warm chuckle filled his ear and in the faded distance he felt the other card gentle fingers through his now-messy hair.

"You never took your glasses off," was all Antonio said.

And the last thing Roderich felt was his spectacles being gently removed before sleep finally overcame his senses.

o o o

Roderich woke up curled against the sheets of Antonio's bed. He didn't remember when they had decided to move to the spacious, queen-sized bed, but the sheets felt nice and cool against his skin and so he didn't protest it, only pressing his cheek closer to the fabric.

It was mid-morning. He could tell by the way the light shone in through the window, giving a warm radiance to the floorboards of Antonio's flat. Little motes of dust were highlighted with the rays of morning sun and the apartment had a still, content air to it.

A pan clanking against the stove interrupted the peace.

Feeling like he was walking in a dream, Roderich lifted the covers back and slowly rose from the bed, his feet leading him in the direction of the noises in the kitchen.

"Buenos días."

Roderich looked up at the voice—it held a familiar warmth but was still heavy and scratchy with sleep. The image that greeted him could only be described out of the movies.

Antonio had on nothing but a dusty gray undershirt and his briefs, the sleeveless top showing off his lean muscles and flat stomach. The large living room window seemed to halo him in the light, making his bright green eyes shimmer gold and giving a healthy, god-like glow to his skin.

As he blinked, he realized the other hadn't shaved yet and there was the faint shadow of stubble over Antonio's chin. His breath caught.

"Roderich?"

He started, realizing the other was regarding him with a questioning expression, forehead creased. Somewhat embarrassed, he cleared his throat and threw back a mumbled "Good morning," of his own, averting his eyes from staring.

But God, what a sight to remember.

He hoped his reddening cheeks weren't visible as he turned his head away, pretending to be preoccupied with a stray thread on the hem of his shirt.

It only took him a second to realize that was _all_ he was wearing.

Some kind of emasculating noise escaped his lips as he quickly pulled the ends of his shirt down, his fingers curling into the white fabric. Across from him Antonio watched with amusement, the bags under his eyes lifting as he quirked one eyebrow.

"Do you not remember last night?" he asked amusedly.

Roderich lifted one hand to cough into it before remembering his predicament and quickly returning it to help in keeping him decent. "Of course I do," he said hastily, the blush on his cheeks deepening. "I just—um…" he trailed off into a self-conscious silence, his toes curling against the cold linoleum on the floor.

Antonio observed him with interest. "It's nothing to be ashamed about," he said before his voice broke off and his eyebrows slanted in concern. "Unless…you did not enjoy it?"

"Ah, no," Roderich said hastily, "it was—um, I mean it was good, I just—"

Antonio's expression relaxed into a knowing chuckle and to save Roderich from further embarrassment he turned away and occupied himself with preparing another mug of coffee. "Bueno," he smiled and handed Roderich the cup. The brunet took the mug gratefully and took a small sip. "It was good for me, too."

Roderich ducked behind his drink in a mumbled reply, feeling the heat of the ceramic against his lips. He couldn't quite explain his embarrassment to the other—in truth, he'd always been a bit prudish but after twenty-six years he would have hoped for improvement. Apparently he was to be disappointed.

"Vale, it pains me to leave you, bello, but I must go. Things to take care of." Antonio flashed him an apologetic smile and dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain, leaving his mug in the sink.

"Oh…" Roderich blinked and looked around. "Should I leave, then?" he asked but the Spaniard waved one hand dismissively.

"No, no," he said, "I am in no such hurry. I'd be an idiot to get rid of a beautiful angel so soon, sí?" He winked and Roderich felt his cheeks heat up again, pulling the mug up to cover it reflexively. "Stay as long as you want—it is no trouble to me. Just lock the door on the way out."

Roderich's blink slowed and he lowered the mug. "…Thank you," he murmured, sincerely.

"Of course!" Antonio beamed. He leaned over to kiss Roderich's cheek and scooted around the counter. "There are eggs in the fridge if you want to make yourself something to eat—you'll have to try Carriedo's Famous Spanish Omelet's another time," he winked and ducked behind the bathroom door.

Roderich watched him go with a pang in his chest. The floor had warmed up wonderfully under the light from the window and the mug curled perfectly between his two hands, keeping his palms heated with the same pleasant feeling that trickled through his veins.

Being with Antonio felt… _comfortable_ , like Roderich had finally found his niche in the physical world. It wasn't just the Spaniard, but even being in the apartment—tiny as it was—added something perfect to his day. Briefly his mind entertained the idea of actually living there with the other but he dispelled the thought before it could ruin his good feelings. He'd only been dating the other for a few months, after all.

He could hear the water being turned on for a shower and the sound of Antonio singing in the bathroom wafted through the thin walls of the apartment.

Roderich breathed out, and smiled.

 

**Author's Note:**

> TRANSLATIONS  
> Dios mío - my God/oh my God  
> buenas noches - good evening  
> vaya - wow/exclamation of surprise  
> bello - beautiful/Spanish term of endearment  
> qué - what/huh?  
> vale - okay/okay?/used as a filler word in Spain  
> abuelita - Spanish term of endearment for grandmother  
> "Me haces quererte" - "You make me want you"  
> "Lo siento, lo siento, mi amor" - "Sorry, sorry, love"  
> buenos días - good morning/good day
> 
> You probably already guessed Belgium as the cashier at the beginning and the other guest appearances in this chapter. Originally the M-rated scenes in this fic were going to be opt-in sections to keep the rating down, but ended up overturning that decision as I kept writing, so this won't be the last time you see shameless smut. Next section is more or less complete, but needs some changes before uploading. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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